I chuckled. “My grandma isn’t famous because of her cookbook. I wish. My family are known for something else.”
“Oh?”
Nope, not going there, princess.
“What did you want to do today?” I changed the subject before I had to tell her all about my father and his dirty deeds.
“Well, I did want to work out for a little while. Did you want to join me?”
“Hell yeah,” I said. “Put your stuff away and I’ll clean up here.”
I watched as she left out the cocktail book and tidied up. When she got to the balloons and confetti, she smiled but it was a sad smile and not one I would think accompanied balloons and confetti.
“What’s wrong?” I asked her.
“Oh nothing, it’s just…I guess, Shona doesn’t really know me anymore, so it makes sense she would buy this stuff…it reminds me of the things I had when I was a kid, back when she was still in Belfast with me. I should be thankful.”
“But you wish she knew it wasn’t your favourite?”
She nodded. “That makes me a bad person, right?”
“Fuck no, it doesn’t. She probably couldn’t find dark pink and black balloons on short notice though.”
Her head snapped up and she frowned for a minute. “How did you know I liked dark pink?”
“You’re always wearing it in some form or another.”
Her smile returned and she nodded, looking down at her outfit and excusing herself to go change. I don’t know why, but when I could make her smile like that, it went straight to my dick. What the actual fuck was happening to me?
Darby
I tried.
I really did.
Well, that’s what I was telling myself when I finally looked over at him as he used the chest press machine while I jogged on the treadmill. When I saw the way his biceps bunched when he moved the arms of the machine close together, I almost tripped over my damn feet and slid down the treadmill. Thank god for the hand rest. I righted myself and stared dead ahead at the wall.
I don’t know what it was about him but he stirred things in me that I’d never had before and yes, I was fully aware that eventually it was going to be a problem. We were in a good place, especially after my moody spinout yesterday, and I liked how easy it was to be with him so why would I feel the needto make it awkward by ogling the guy when all he wanted to do was work out?
Back in Belfast, I would never befriend a guy. I knew he’d be too intimidated by my father and brothers so I just stuck to my own corner of the clubhouse and made my own fun. I’d come close once or twice, sneaking out to the warehouse to make out but ultimately, my brothers were too big of a motivator for them to want to risk their lives.
I liked thinking of Rebel as my friend though, even if he never thought of me as one and I was just a job, I could lie to myself and say he liked me back. He didn’t hide away in his room, he sat with me, fed me, made sure I had everything I needed and he made my birthday morning even better than I’d ever had before.
I slowed the treadmill down and jumped off, stretching my limbs for a few minutes before I moved over to the cross trainer in the corner.
“You good?” he asked, without pausing.
“Yep, just don’t want to get sore.”
He nodded before he jumped off the machine and laid down on the mat. When he proceeded to start doing sit ups, I felt my lower belly clench as I saw every muscle tighten with his movements. He had a sheen of sweat on his forehead and his arms. I was sweaty too, but when I got sweaty, I turned pink andmy hair clung to my face and made me irritable. He just looked like he’d been prepped for a goddamn photo shoot.
Jumping on the cross trainer, which of course had to be facing him while he did his wet dream inducing routine, I tried everything not to watch how his muscles tensed when he came up, his torso was ripped without an ounce of fat on him and I could see every dip and curve of his abs every time he came up.
Pushing back the inappropriateness of my ogling, I forced myself to look at the monitor of the machine as I climbed, my thighs burning. I lived for the burn. I’d always used working out as a way to let off anger at my situation, at my brothers, at life, but right now it was pushing all those nasty thoughts in my head away so I could function like a human.
I chanced a glance up as he stopped and took a drink from his bottle of water. His lips wrapped around the opening of the plastic bottle and I wondered, not for the first time, what it would feel like to have those lips pressed against mine. My brain decided to go haywire and continue thinking of his arms wrapping around my waist and holding me close, how he would feel as he kissed down my neck and how his hands would feel as he cupped my breasts.
Jesus, Darby, get a fucking grip.
